BothAnd
by mountainrivergirl
Summary: Lucy tries to make Flynn a gift and in the process winds up crying alone. Flynn finds her and they end up crying together, the dam breaks, and all of the confessions come pouring out. Angst/Fluff, Garcy romance


_Disclaimer: I don't own Timeless_

* * *

"Here you go, Lucy," Agent Christopher said as she handed the thick manila folder to the historian. "Are you sure you want this?" She asked with a _be careful what you wish for_ look.

"Yes. I really want to do this for him, and for the other, if I see anything that can help, I-" she cut off, acting more sure than she felt. Agent Christopher gave her a resigned nod and patted Lucy's shoulder before grabbing her things off her desk and heading toward the exit.

Lucy looked down at the folder that weighed heavily in her hands. Flynn had been such a support for her over the last year, and she wanted to do something for him. She might not be able to give him his family back, but this she could do. Even if it hurt. They had grown even closer over the months as he had been a steadfast presence at her side while she grieved her mother and Rufus (before they got him back) and as she stitched her broken heart back together from the situation with Wyatt and Jessica. She wanted to help him in return.

It wasn't a good idea for anyone to catch her with the folder, so she weighed her options and only came up with one solution—the cellar. The new safe house was an old compound of farmhouses that had been seized from a cult, so it boasted much more space than the bunker, but Flynn still always knew where to find her. Lucy couldn't bear the thought of hurting him if he found her looking at this. The door creaked loudly as she first pulled it, and she paused to listen for footsteps. She slipped inside quickly, leaving the door slightly ajar to avoid a repeat of the screech, and carefully picked her way down the open steps. As she sat down on the cement floor, her back against a utility shelf full of cans of creamed corn and carrots and peas, she clung to the folder. Taking a deep breath, she stretched her legs out and stared at a box of one-ply toilet paper as she tried to psych herself up to look.

Denise had insisted on removing the detailed crime scene report and photos, and Lucy was thankful for her foresight. First, she would deal with the pictures. Shaking, she turned the first one.

* * *

Flynn shook his head in confusion as he left Lucy's room. He had already searched the barn, where the life boat and gym were now housed. He had hurried back through the underground tunnel to the main house—the cult that the government had seized the compound from had fortunately been very paranoid, and that had worked out in their favor—and then he had checked the kitchen, library, and Denise and Connor's office before checking his own room. The change had been very welcome, but could also be inconvenient, Flynn realized as he thought about the tight quarters of the bunker and the fact that there was never a time he had to wonder where Lucy was when they lived there. He went down the hall to check with Jiya and Rufus in their room.

"Um, hey, Flynn, do you need something?"

"Lucy, is she in there?"

"She's not in here," he turned to Jiya, opening the door wide. "Have you seen Lucy?" Rufus eyed the plate of food in Flynn's hand as he questioned Jiya.

Jiya shook her head. "Not since before dinner. I assumed she was in her room, and I know she wouldn't go outside in the open without telling any of us…maybe she's with Wyatt?"

Barely managing to keep a wince off his face, he stepped back. "Alright then, I'll keep looking. Thanks."

Flynn paused at the door to Wyatt's room, then shook his head. He doubted Lucy was in there. After they got Rufus back and it had become clear that Jessica was indeed pregnant, Wyatt had been planning how to rescue the baby, and Jessica too, if she would come. Lucy understood and supported him. But after all he had put her through previously, and the fact that he really did have a baby on the way with another woman, she wasn't willing to risk her heart again. Since she and Wyatt had that heart-to-heart, during which Flynn beat the daylights out of the standing bag while picturing Wyatt's face, they had both maintained a friendly but carefully platonic distance.

Mason was snoring, so he bypassed that room as well. There was a light on in the kitchen pantry, which was strange since Agent Christopher had left a few hours ago. The room was empty, though, so he reached for the pull cord when he heard a distant sound and realized it was coming from the cellar.

The plate plunked down on a shelf as he made a beeline for the stairs. Flynn forgot to duck and banged his head on a beam as he cursed and stumbled down the ancient steps made for smaller men.

"Lucy, what-?" He cut off as the sight before him didn't compute.

Lucy was curled up in a ball in the corner, crying on the dirty floor, with her hand over her mouth. She jumped as she realized he was there and tried to sit up.

"Lucy, are you hurt?" Flynn asked urgently, looking her over for new injuries.

She shook her head in reply, and gulped air, trying to calm herself. Flynn scooted closer, realizing she must have just needed a cry. It smarted that she hadn't come to him for that, but while they had steadily grown closer, there were still parts of herself that she held back from him. He didn't begrudge her privacy, but she had his whole heart. Although he knew he didn't deserve the love of someone as precious as her, he still wanted it. He sometimes cursed that stubborn part of himself that continued to hope no matter the odds. It was why he could never let go of Lorena and Iris and the hope that he would someday bring them back and make them safe, that Lucy would get Amy back, that Lucy would love him the way he loved her.

Lucy finally sat up, shoving something under the shelf of canned vegetables before leaning into his chest and letting her tears continue to flow. He let her cry, as he wrapped his arms around her. She was babbling, saying something over and over. There was no way to understand her through the sobs, so he just softly shushed her and began to stroke her hair. It took several long minutes, but she finally calmed for the most part, taking shuddering breaths against him as she tried again to speak.

"I—I'm so sorry. I'm s-so s-sorry," she finally got out. He shook his head and resumed stroking her hair. He tried to ignore her need to constantly apologize when she was like this, but it was hard. She had only cried in front of him a couple of times, and each time he was struck by what a privilege it was that she would allow herself to be so vulnerable with him. The thought that it could possibly be an inconvenience to him was ludicrous.

"I'm sorry, sorry, no, you can't…you shouldn't comfort me for this," she said again, lifting up a little so that her forehead was now in the soft spot just below his collarbone.

"Lucy. What are you apologizing for, exactly? Being human? Having emotions? You're allowed."

She shook her head again and took a deep breath before sitting all the way up and leaning away from him. His heart clenched as he took in her red eyes and puffy face, hating that she had exiled herself to the smallest, grossest part of the compound just to cry.

"Now, do you want to talk about whatever it is that has you in here crying alone? Or let me see whatever it is that you shoved under this very shelf?"

As he gestured toward the shelf, her eyes widened in panic and she raised her hand quickly to catch his.

"Don't!" she choked out.

Flynn took in Lucy's alarmed face and tried to keep the hurt out of his voice when he asked, "Do you want me to go?"

"No," Lucy said, grabbing his arm with her hand. "I just didn't want you to know about this and it's going to hurt you…I was hiding from you. Shit."

Lucy reached back under the shelf and paused. Flynn's general Lucy policy, which was basically 'let her come to you and only take whatever she will give' was about to be shot completely to pieces this evening.

"Lucy, for heaven's sake, would you please just tell me what the hell is going on? Anything that sends you off to weep alone on the cellar floor is something I want to know about."

Lucy swallowed and looked down at her knees. She pulled a thick manila file out from under the shelf.

"I wanted to do something. For you. So I asked Agent Christopher to get me your evidence file."

A ball of discomfort curled up in the pit of his stomach at the thought of her reading all the interviews of people he had been close to who believed he was a murderer, being reminded of all the evil things he actually HAD done, reading about how Iris and Lorena had died…and his heart beat faster as he started to panic. But then he reminded himself that above all else, he trusted Lucy. He still didn't understand what was happening, though.

"Okay…are you going to burn it or something? Like to get rid of evidence?"

"No, Flynn, I—"

"Because you do know that anything in there is on the computer system, recorded with audio and video file, this is probably only copies of the main hard copies—"

"Flynn. Garcia." He stopped in shock as she called him by his given name. "Just…just listen. And please try not to get angry."

Flynn nodded at her, gesturing for her to go on, at a complete loss for what was happening.

"There are pictures. In here." He gagged and slammed his eyes shut at the wave of nausea that hit him at that thought.

"Lucy…why…?" He choked out.

"No! No, no, no, not like that! There are FAMILY pictures. They took them from the house as evidence."

His eyes flew open in shock. "What?"

"I know you had to run that night. You don't have any pictures to remember them by, or at least I've never seen any, so I wanted to get them for you. The little picture I have of Amy means everything to me, and I want you to have that, at least. I realize now that I probably massively overstepped and I'm so sorry, and I…"

As Lucy was babbling, Flynn realized what she was saying, and his heart nearly stopped. A powerful wave of longing crashed over him, both to see Iris and Lorena and for this wonderful woman in front of him, and his eyes welled up. He reached over to gently put his index finger over her lips, and she trailed off. Not trusting his voice, he held out a trembling hand. Lucy wordlessly opened the folder and handed him the tiny stack of photos she had assembled. She pulled her knees up to stand, and Flynn dropped a hand to her knee, pleading with his eyes for her to stay.

"Are you sure?" she whispered, her eyes glassy as she met his gaze, still uncertain he would want her there. He nodded mutely in response and closed his eyes.

"You are always welcome with me, Lucy. And I don't think…I don't want to do this alone." Flynn breathed in slowly to calm his nerves, concentrating on the comfort of Lucy's warm presence beside him. Four years ago, he had known these pictures so well that he didn't even have to look at them to see them in his mind. But as the years passed, the little things had begun to fade—the exact shade of Lorena's eyes when she laughed, the number of crinkles in Iris's nose when she smiled, the look in her eyes reserved for when she looked up at him adoringly. He was holding a treasure in his hands and he wanted to savor the moment.

The first picture was of Iris toddling on the grass while holding onto Lorena's fingers. She was wearing a pink onesie that said "My Daddy Loves Me" and grinning up at him with only two teeth. He had nearly forgotten the curls that had grown out as her hair grew longer and his nose twitched at the memory of how they tickled when she would fall asleep against his chest.

"She's beautiful," Lucy said softly after a long moment passed. Flynn nodded and swiped at his eyes. He ran a finger over the cheek in the picture, trying to remember how the baby softness had felt against his hand.

"She took her first steps alone just after this. To me."

He knew he would stare at all of these for hours later, but now he was desperate to see the rest.

The next picture was taken a couple years later, at a Fourth of July picnic. It was on the back deck of their home in Maryland. Iris was sitting on Lorena's lap, in her red, white and blue sundress and pigtails, and their faces were smushed together, pink from the sun and smiling, side-by-side identical smiles.

"She—" he started and had to clear his throat. "She looked just like Lorena."

He felt Lucy's nod against his shoulder. "She does. Her eyes, though…she has your eyes."

Flynn heard how Lucy corrected him by using the present tense and wondered if she even noticed. He leaned his cheek against her soft waves and breathed her in. Perhaps it should have felt wrong to look at pictures of his family, of the woman he had loved and lost with the woman he maybe-sort of—okay, was definitely—falling in love with, but it didn't. It felt right, somehow, to share them with her, that she could remember them too.

Reaching for the next photo, he felt Lucy shake a little and he realized that was the end of the stack.

"The last one?"

Lucy shrugged and sniffed as she tried to get a hold of herself. He could hear the tears in her voice again. "That's as far as I got before…" she trailed off, clearly meaning that was when she started crying.

Flynn licked his lips and tapped his finger over the picture a couple of times before getting the nerve to flip it over. It was of the whole family this time, from the last Christmas they had together. They were all in their pajamas, and Iris had forced a Santa hat onto his head, and placed reindeer antlers on her own. Lorena was watching them, laughing, and he had started to laugh, too, when the timer went off and the camera had snapped the picture. He stroked his finger across the faces of both of his girls before bringing it to his eyes to wipe away the tears that had been silently collecting there.

Flynn felt Lucy's sob before he heard it and he turned to see her sobbing again, with her face against her pulled up knees. He glanced back at the picture before turning to look at her, his own tears drying up as his curiosity was roused. It was understandable that this would make her emotional, but why this particular picture?

"What is it about this one, Lucy?"

"You. You just…you look so…happy…and then…they just took it all from you," she gasped out before weeping into her knees once again.

It hit him hard then, the knowledge that this weeping Lucy was doing—it was for him. Not just for Lorena and Iris and the loss of their innocent lives (although he knew that was part of it), but because she was grieving for what he, himself, had lost. If he weren't completely in love with her yet, that did it. He put his arm on her back and rubbed slowly up and down and tried to ignore the wave of guilt that was rising in him. Lucy had started to calm down, and he shook his head before speaking to her.

"Lucy, you shouldn't be crying for me."

She pulled back and tried to catch his eye, but he was staring resolutely at the floor.

"Well, you shouldn't be comforting me when I'm crying about what happened to you, but here we are."

"It's not the same, Lucy. You didn't do this to me."

She scoffed. "Yeah, it wasn't me. Just my family."

"You didn't choose your family. I chose to hurt you, Lucy. I made your sister disappear," he could see her shaking her head out of the corner of his eye.

"You didn't mean for that to happen. And Rittenhouse planned to do it anyway. You didn't want to hurt me."

Flynn slammed his hand against the floor in frustration. "I didn't WANT to hurt you, but I still did, Lucy! I knew the things I was doing were going to hurt you! No, I didn't know from the journal what caused Amy to disappear, and I was horrified when I found out, but then I still turned around and—"

He lifted a finger to run it gently down her throat and was bitterly gratified when she winced and pulled away slightly. He shuddered at the memory of holding her neck in his hands like that.

"And I kidnapped you, Lucy. God, how can you be here and-?" Flynn gestured wildly at her and himself before biting his lip and putting his head in his hands. There was silence between them as he swam in the self-loathing.

"Why did you?" He heard Lucy ask and he looked up to see her looking at him with a penetrating stare. The look she had made him feel like she could see down to his deepest thoughts, to his bone marrow.

"I…" he trailed off, thinking how to explain. "I was so scared when I found you in that theater. I needed to get you out of the way and I panicked. From the journal, I knew you would fight me for a time, I knew you would be afraid of me, and it scared me that you WEREN'T. I knew I could never bring myself to actually hurt you, but I needed you to believe I would. Of all the terrible things I have done, that…" Flynn shook his head again and squeezed his eyes shut.

After a moment, he heard Lucy sigh. "And the kidnapping?"

"You made me stop, made me care. And I wanted so badly to hate you for it. I thought it would make me fail. I was so angry, Lucy, I went a little crazy. I still wasn't going to hurt you personally, but…I really did intend to let Wyatt and Rufus die, in Chicago or the other times, and I knew what that would do to you. I wanted to prove to myself that I could make myself not care so that I could complete my mission."

Flynn bit his lip and made himself look up at her. She was staring at him intently, but he couldn't read the look in her eyes. "I haven't apologized before, because I don't deserve your forgiveness. I know I won't ever forgive myself, and I certainly don't expect you to. But, Lucy, I am, I am…so very sorry…" His throat closed up as tears rolled down his face.

Through the haze of tears, Flynn was vaguely aware of Lucy coming to sit next to him again. Flinching when she leaned against his shoulder, he couldn't fight her when she pulled his arm through her own and hugged it. He fought to stop his crying, because he knew she was going to talk, and he owed it to her to hear whatever she had to say.

"If you deserved forgiveness, you wouldn't need it, you know." He sat up, wiping his eyes on his sleeves and dared to look down at her as a wisp of hope twisted through him. She was staring straight ahead.

"I'm not going to lie, you did scare me that night. Early on, I knew you weren't going to hurt me. I could see it in your eyes, even at the Hindenburg. But that night, and then later, when you kidnapped me, it did make me doubt that I was right. And then later, I thought it was because you knew."

"Knew? Knew what?"

He looked down at her as she shook her head, eyes closed, and swallowed hard.

"I'm the last descendant of David Rittenhouse. This evil, this thing we're fighting, it's not just something that my family has done, it's something my family IS. It's inside me."

Flynn's mind raced through the implications of that. That man that he had met back during the Revolution, the one who wanted to force Lucy into his bed, that was her however-many-times great-grandfather? But that meant the boy…Flynn bit back the bile that rose in his throat at the thought.

Lucy's eyes were almost scared, uncertain of how he was going to react, and he hated himself for it. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close.

"Thank God you stopped me, Lucy."

"But you were right, it might have worked, it could have ended it. I just didn't want you to…"

"You didn't want me to turn into a monster, even though I thought I already had. Lucy, if I had succeeded…if you had died…I know I said in 1954 that I was willing to let you, but you were right when you said I wanted you to stop me. If I had killed you, I…" he broke off. It was simply unthinkable.

"Connor said I wouldn't have died, as long as I was on the trip when it happened. Like Amy's picture being in my locket. It would have made my existence disappear, but I would still be alive, just with no record."

"That's just a THEORY, Lucy! You can't think I would want to test it out on YOU!" He turned his head away in frustration. Lucy's eyes were boring holes into the back of his head.

"I thought…you said you were willing to do whatever it takes to get them back?"

"But not…not that. I…" Flynn chuckled bitterly. "I am a very greedy, selfish man, Lucy."

"No," Lucy said, and he felt her hand reach up to his cheek and let her turn his head to face her. He couldn't bring himself to meet her ferocious gaze, however. "You're not. Ever since you joined us, you have done everything for me. You have somehow been both my pillar of strength and my soft place to land, and you have let me take over your space and just…been there for me without ever demanding anything in return. I have no idea what I would do without you."

Flynn's heart swelled at hearing her say that. But he knew she still didn't understand why.

"Lucy…I am willing to do whatever it takes to save Lorena and Iris. Everything except lose you. When this whole thing started, my goal was practically impossible, and my list of wants has only grown longer. I want it all—I want Lorena and Iris to be safe and happy, and I also want that for you. It's not a win for me unless I have that for all of you."

Her fingers stroked his cheek. "Is that why?"

Flynn opened his eyes to look at her and squinted them in confusion. "Is that why what?"

Lucy's gaze faltered for a moment before meeting his own again. "In Chinatown, you said 'that's not why I'm here', when you assumed I thought you killed Wyatt…you never got a chance to answer."

He shook his head, unable to look away from her lovely face. This isn't how Flynn had pictured this conversation going, when he had allowed himself to dream of it happening at all. In his mind, he had at least imagined being outside under the stars, maybe back in time somewhere, but it absolutely never included them huddled on a cramped, dirty basement floor while sobbing together over pictures of his family. But he also knew he couldn't deny her the answer. Hell, she probably already knew. He wasn't going to abandon her if she rejected him, but he had held back because he didn't think he could handle it if she withdrew from him. He swallowed hard.

Gently, he reached for her chin and held her face in his hand, watching as a blush spread up from her neck. "Do you really want to know, Lucy?"

She nodded wordlessly in reply, not looking away.

"You, Lucy. I'm here for you."

She nodded again. "Okay…here for me…how? To protect me, to be my partner, to help me with the journal and defeat Rittenhouse? Or to…" she broke off and looked away from him. He felt himself reddening as well, but he was determined to finish this conversation now that it had veered into this territory, consequences be damned. It killed him that he couldn't tell what her own feelings were, but she was pushing through, still asking the question. At least she wasn't running away.

"I think you know, Lucy."

"I think…I think I do, too." She looked back at him shyly, biting her lip, and he couldn't help but follow the motion with his eyes and her blush deepened. "But…" she shifted suddenly and moved, and his hands moved to grab her waist before he fully processed that she was now sitting sideways on his lap. His heart hammered a beat that felt like 'please, please, please' in his chest as he stared back at her in wonder.

"I think I know…I still need you to tell me." Lucy's caramel eyes met his own and the soft look in them made him brave.

"Yes, Lucy. To protect you, to be your partner, to help you however you want with the journal, to defeat Rittenhouse…and to love you. To be whatever you will allow me to be for you."

Her eyes widened as he said he loved her and she bit her lip again. He closed his eyes as he hid his face and spoke against her shoulder.

"I don't expect anything from you, you know that. I don't deserve anything, but that doesn't mean I don't still want it. As long as you want it, too."

Flynn felt more than heard her hushed response. "I do want it. I do." He tried to tamp down the joy that exploded in him because he heard the hesitancy in her voice.

"But?"

Lucy looked at him with pleading puppy dog eyes. "I've kind of been in this situation before. And God, Flynn, I want them back for you. I want you to have this back." She held up the Christmas picture again. A part of him wanted to go beat the crap out of Wyatt for making her so hesitant, but another part of him understood. A part of him wanted it back, too, so badly, but he also knew better.

"Lucy, it's not the same. You remember what I told you? About leaving?"

Lucy frowned at him but nodded.

"I understand what you're saying. I do. I know what you went through with Wyatt. But it's not the same. I have the benefit of watching Wyatt's experience, too. If I am able to bring them back, and I do realize that's a big if—they will not be the same. I am certainly not the same. The changes we make to the timeline ripple out and have other effects. This Jessica is not Wyatt's Jessica, whether or not he has accepted that. A saved Iris and Lorena may not be MY Iris and Lorena at all. And while I've been trying to save Lorena for years, Lucy, it doesn't mean that I only have room in my heart for her."

Lucy was still biting her lip, looking up at him, clearly conflicted.

"Lucy, what I was saying before, about winning being all three of you—what I was trying to say is that you are as much my family, as much a part of my heart as the two of them. The love I have for you and for them isn't either/or. It's both/and. I love them, and I love you. And if we ever win this fight, if I get them back, I am still not willing to give you up."

Flynn leaned his forehead against hers, willing her to believe him. He didn't deserve this, didn't even deserve to be trusted to be in the same room with her, but here it was, so close he could taste it, and he was not going to let insecurities get in his way.

"I guess…I don't understand why. Why you can…love me…and know that what I am is what caused them to die."

Flynn blew out a breath in exasperation.

"You know, this is what I meant when I said so long ago that I sometimes feel like I know you better than you know yourself. Lucy, you don't always see yourself clearly. You may technically have Carol Preston and Benjamin Cahill's DNA and blood in your veins, but there is not an ounce of them in your soul."

He looked down at her to see tears falling again.

"I know your original mother was different, so maybe it's her, maybe it was Henry Wallace, in which case I would really like to meet him one day, but you are nothing like these parents. I see your heart, Lucy, and you are fire, and brilliance, stubbornness and passion, but more than all of that, you are made of sheer love, Lucy. Everything you do is out of love—fight for Amy, fight for history, fight for the team—it always comes down to love with you. The question isn't why I would love you, Lucy, it's how could I not."

Closing his eyes again, he leaned his head back against the shelf. He knew it was reasonable that she would be unsure, and he would prove it to her if need be, no matter how long it took. The sting of her silence still hurt.

But—suddenly—he felt a hand snake around his neck and into his hair, pulling him down and she was kissing him. LUCY was kissing him, and her sweet mouth felt like joy and sorrow and heat and love, love, love, and he was kissing her back with all the love he felt for her, pouring his passion into the kiss and trying to convey with his mouth and hands just how treasured she was. He was happily drowning in her.

After a few seconds, or minutes, or hours, she pulled away, gasping for breath and he opened his eyes to see her whiskey colored eyes bright and glowing. He beamed back at her as she grinned and he leaned in to kiss her again.

He knew he hadn't solved the problem of her insecurity in one conversation, and he knew that there were more hurdles to cross. They would have to finish going through the folder with the memories both good and bad that would bring, and they would have to keep talking. But they would. He knew she hadn't said she loved him back yet, but she also said she wanted it. She wanted HIM. For the moment, it was enough. He was more than content to hold and kiss her and bask in the glow of her big, bright, glowing heart and the knowledge that he was allowed to keep her in his own.

* * *

Lucy wasn't ready yet to say the words out loud, but she loved him. She was still afraid. Afraid of him being killed, afraid of Rittenhouse twisting history somehow to pull the rug out from under her again, and yes, even a little afraid that his family might come back and he would leave her. But she reminded herself that even when they were fighting on opposing sides, Flynn had never lied to her. Lucy trusted him with her life, her secrets, and she knew she would learn to trust him with her heart. It was a strange gift to hold such power over a man who refused to bow to anyone. She had known since the day she met him that he cared, no matter what he said. He cared for nothing, but still he cared for her.

And then she looked into his familiar green eyes, the eyes of her best friend, and saw the longing in them. The longing that called out to her, and her heart begged her to answer. Then he was closing his eyes and leaning his head back away from her, shoulders slumped in dejection, and she gave in. She pulled him down and kissed him the way she had wanted to for far longer than she cared to admit and let her actions speak for her.

Lucy was melting. Flynn's kisses—Garcia's kisses—were turning her insides to liquid joy. She felt like she might float away if not for his large hands gripping her hips, then burning her as they skimmed the skin of her lower back, then tenderly brushing through the strands of her hair, tying her down to earth. Tying her to him.

She knew they hadn't solved everything. But she didn't care anymore. Holding back, never loving, only seeing people as commodities and not as human beings to be loved—that was the Rittenhouse way. That had never been Lucy and never would be. She wouldn't allow them to take this from her, too, the ability to love and love well. Amy and Flynn. The team and her real parents. History and the individual people she met in the past who she could help. Flynn's past with Iris and Lorena and his future with her.

Lucy was fighting for all of it. She knew she probably wouldn't get it all, wouldn't save all of these people, but it was worth it. And if all she got out of it was the heart of this wonderful man who was capable of great brutality, but also great love and tenderness, this man who made her feel like she was the center of the universe while she was snotty, puffy, and sobbing on a dirty basement floor…she would count herself a winner. Because he loved her. And damn, he could kiss.

* * *

Author's Note: So, this started out as a tiny drabble scene of Flynn and Lucy crying together and somehow grew and grew because the words kept coming and I could NOT make them stop. Hopefully it works!


End file.
